


That Old People Smell

by Kingknome



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Back to Earth, No happy endings, not edited, the Ravagers are criminals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingknome/pseuds/Kingknome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who ever said Peter wanted to return to earth? Or that anybody would be happy about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old People Smell

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, banged this out at 3am on my phone and I'm to tired to edit it. Maybe later if I ever have time.

Being peers with a goody-two-shoe organization too squeaky clean to wipe its own ass was damn curse sometimes. It was always stupid little favors like"make sure this planet has illegal contraceptives" and "take this plauge-cure to the Kree empire who won't accept it" and "we can't accept refugees unless you smuggle them here for us". A damn pain in the ass. And if It didn't keep their otherwise tarnished records shinny and pay decent gas millage, the so called Guardians of the Galaxy would have dropped them like the radio active waste they were.

But seriously, this was the last straw, abusing Quill's official dual citizenship to take a message to Terra so that it could be forwarded to Asgard. For one, terra was at the ass end of the galaxy, with no significant trade goods other than highly illegal slavery and exotic foods that would need a whole planet of marketing to turn a profit. 

After this delivery shit, it was all Ravager missions, all the time, because at least they could dream of a rich retirement or an honorable death with them. Even if it did mean losing their diplomatic immunity and abusing Quill's dual citizenship to smuggle some humie-slaves. 

Hell on the crap-sack world of Terra they might even get volunteers.   
\---

Peter Quill was not excited to return to earth. For one, the Ravagers had stopped by with him a few times over the years to collect various exotic specimens. For another, there wasn't a decent bar of gr'awel for a million light years. And worst of all the message they were charged with delivering was addressed to Thor of Asgard, who was currently off planet, and accessible only through a group of humies calls 'the Avengers'.

Worse yet, Earth had managed to drag their tech forward enough to spot the Milano, fire upon it, and deal enough damage that they were likely trapped without the assistance of Asgard (or a decent ship yard. Which ever was closer). And to ice the cake, they'd also recently survived an invasion from the chuthari, which made them super paranoid. 

So their arrival on Earth had been broadcast around the globe from a billion smartphones (illegal on Xandar), and had landed them in the middle of a three ring media circus. 

"In and out you said!", griped Rocket, "like stealing from a blind ker'ach you said! MORE TWELVE PRECENT OF A PLAN YOU SAID!" The last bit had Rocket flailing his arms adorably in purple Osh Kosh coveralls and black tee-shirt. "Quill you have one cycle to get us off this fungus-planet or I will steal the Iran nukes and BLOW IT TO BITS!"

"Cool it rocket! I can't tie this with you yammering!" Quill yelled back equally aggrieved, "I don't like it here one bit more than you! All we gotta do is play along as nice guys for a few more days, and then we've got it in the bag okay? These people need to think we're heroes and not mercenaries! It's not that hard!"

"Not that hard if you can go outside and blow shit up!" Rocket shot back, clawing his way on a leather chair so he was at eye level with Quill, "if you can go OUTSIDE and eat!! And not get stared and shot at and stuffed in to a cage with- with- COONS!"

"Damnit Rocket!! I told you, you're just a raccoon here, and everybody hates raccoons! And you were eating out of a garbage! And I told you the raccoons here can't talk!"

"That 'coon asked for it! And it's not my fault your people are so disgusting they leave food in the street!"

Quill growls and pulls the bit of fabric he'd been trying to tie off his neck, "Damn it Rocket, now I'm late!" He yells and throws the tie at Rocket, "Just stay here! Just stay! I'll bee back soon."  
\---  
The camera lights in Quill's face are blinding, but at least they give him something to focus on. Something besides his eighty or ninety year old grandfather leaning heavily on his cane in the center of the stage. 

An announcer excitedly narrates from a nearby desk, "...such a beautiful heart warming moment folks..." Quill does his best to tune them out. Damn his family, and damn the Avengers for their heavy handed welcome. 

"Peter..." Groans the old man, he sways forward dropping his cane, arms coming up for an embrace. "Oh my boy..." For a moment he looks so much like a victim of the shamble-plauge, Quill can't help but reach for his gun. 

Only it's not there. He'd left it with Gamora this morning in the hopes that she would be least likely to shoot anyone. His whole outfit is an exercise in fitting in, slick three piece suit missing the tie, and curtesy of Tony Stark. His jet boots replaced with vulnerable loafers that slid on the tile floors. 

He tries not to flinch as his Grandpa hugs him on global TV, represses the urge to run away. Holds his breath through the long embrace. But as grandpa finally pulls away he can't help but take a breath and smell it. 

Old people smell. 

The sent hits him with a slew of memories, and it's impossible to hide his shutter. 

Quill puts his hand over his mouth and hopes they think he's crying. Tries to breath around the smell of sardines and moth balls and decay. Try's to repress the memories of boredom and helpless. The hours and hours of time wasted in church rather than outside in the sun.

He'd never liked grandpa's house, and his mother had hated it too. Too restrictive, to godly, too dull. She'd run away for as long as she could, until the sickness and poverty had forced them back. 

Quill takes a seat across from his grandfather on the stage (separate chairs, he'd insisted), and try's to pay attention to the questions from the man at the desk. Some are easy, he misses hamburgers and milk, some are harder, he didn't miss earth that much. 

They try to draw out memories from Quill and his grandfather and it's awkward. Grandpa members things Quill had forgotten and suppressed, or was just to young to care about. He nods along and hope he contributes in the right places, but when they look at him he has nothing to say. 

Nothing good anyway. 

To fill the silence Grandfather falls into a chant of "praise the lord! Oh thank you Jesus!"

And then mercifully the fifteen minuets are up, and he can leave. Quill springs from his chair, sweat clinging to him, and tries to bolt. He has to pass Grandpa to get out, and the man snags his arm (it smells like cheese and grrren juice, gross). 

"Peter," says the stranger, "why didn't you ever come home? That space ship..."

Quill wrenches his arm away and steps back, "Come back to what? A crappy condo in Aurora and a mega church? Leave all the wonders of the civilized galaxy for some hole that doesn't even have a tv?" Quill rolls his eyes, "I wouldn't have even had my own room, you would have sent me to craptic school-"

"Catholic school"

"- whatever; and I would have been lucky to borrow your car as a kid! Out there, I got to pilot ships as soon as I could reach the controls! I traveled to places that no one will return to for a millennia! I get paid by the government to steal things! What would I do here on earth that could compare! Nothing."

Grandpa wavers under his glare, and then says "I'll pray for you son" and closes his eyes to do just that. 

Quill makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and then storms out. 

Seriously Thor better get his ass-guard down here ASAP.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, "Ravagers" implies the worst sort of criminals. Quill may have a heart of gold, but it doesn't mean that he hasn't followed orders. I would love to see more go a where the Ravagers are portrayed as the mercenaries they really are.


End file.
